


Leather Bound

by MonochromeTurtle (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 1920's, AU, Dark, F/M, Fluff, Homophobia, M/M, Racism, anon request, bookstore, rude language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-12 17:39:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 19,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1193859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/MonochromeTurtle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anon Request on Tumblr. 1920's AU fluff fest. Of course I had to add a bookstore too.</p><p>DISCONTINUED. (Sorry I suck I know)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Novak Bookshop

**Author's Note:**

> So yes, I asked for some prompts on Tumblr, and an anon sent me one requesting an AU set in the 1920's, and they really wanted fluff as well. I actually was not expecting myself to get so inspired, but here is the first chapter! I was actually planning just some shortie, but I got inspired and motivated. I am sure my anon will not mind if I put more time into this. I will write more today and tomorrow. Please excuse the errors, I was in a rush whilst writing this. Will edit later I swear! Wow my first actual fanfic on AO3. Hope you like Anon.

**April 30th, 1922.**

> The only reason Dean went into the bookstore in the first place, was to buy some nerdy books for his genius of a brother. His brother, a successful lawyer, had enjoyed books a lot when he was younger. Before he went to college and studied from those painfully boring textbooks about law and all that nonsense. 

> He didn't want to buy Sam any law books, he had enough of those lying around his house, though he wasn't sure what kind of books Sam had liked when he was a kid, since he'd usually not understand what Sam was even talking about. Which is why he went to a small bookstore at the corner of Main Street. It was a cozy looking place, that Dean had often driven by in his old boxy, sleek black car, that he had personally named "Impala" and "Baby", though he'd never tell another soul. His father, John Winchester, proud hunter who currently live with his mother Mary in Kansas, had given him the car after he had gotten a new one. Of course, Dean had always loved it, and had taken it as soon as he was offered it. 

> The cobbled and shabby looking bookstore loomed in front of Dean, as he parked his car at the side of the merely used dusty dirt road. A weary sign hung above the door and heavily curtained windows, reading in chipped blue paint, "Novak's Bookshop". He stepped out of his precious vehicle, roof raised since the sky hanging overhead looked a bit gray and gloomy, and pushed open the door to the homely bookstore. A light bell twinkled as he pushed open the sturdy wooden door, and he heard the slapping of books being settled on top of one another. After peering in for a moment, Dean took a full step into the bookstore, feeling carpet underneath his worn out black dress shoes. He glanced down, finding a dully patterned rug, the color themes obviously brown and white, patterned into swirls of smoke. 

> The rest of the small and clustered bookstore was colored more or less the same way. The walls had wooden panels along them, the wood a golden brown color, polished and cleaned. The shelves looked like they were made of a darker wood, once upon a time they had been deep in color, though long ago the color had been drained out of it, so that it was a more dirty brown. Books flooded the shelves, all stuffed together so that not another single one could hope to be stuffed into them. Which explained why that the floor was filled with overflowing books as well. Everything seemed crammed together, though Dean did take note of the small little corners throughout the small shop which held comfy looking armchairs, some of them white and fabric, others caramel colored and leather. Another one looked vibrant in color, though Dean soon realized that a quilt had been draped upon it.

> Sam would love this place. Would love pouring into book after book. Any avid reader would. The sounds of hurried footsteps tore Dean's thoughts away for a moment however, and a scruffy looking man entered the room. The man wrung his hands together, subconsciously, and went to the front of the small bookstore, ducking behind a counter. He gave Dean a weary smile, the corner of his brilliantly blue eyes crinkling. He merely wore a white, button up dress shirt, a dark blue tie settling crookedly upon his chest. After a moment, Dean noticed it was put on backwards. He wore a pair of casual black slacks, and black dress shoes. He had dark hair which framed his tanned face, the unkempt hair wild around his face, while the barest hint of stubble ran along the man's jaw. 

> In short, the ragged looking man was beautiful. Dean had rarely experienced his slight attraction to a man, but this was beyond what little he had experience before. This man stared at him with that pair of gorgeous eyes, soft and cold all at the same time, as he asked in a surprisingly low and gravelly voice, that sent a shiver down Dean's spine, "May I help you?".

> Dean himself was wearing a light cream color dress shirt underneath a dark olive green vest and a gray pea-coat that he had left unbuttoned when he had thrown it on on the way here. He had politely taken his gray fedora hat off, leaving his light sandy brown hair ruffled. He swallowed nervously, trying hard not be attracted to this gorgeous man, and instead trying to think of all the women he had been with in the last few weeks, women he had mainly picked up at the bar. Dean smiled visually uneasily, and cleared his throat, "Yeah, uh, I came here looking for some smart books for my brother. I'm not really sure what I am looking for though." He shuffled in place nervously, over the already worn carpet.

> The man nodded, giving him a tight smile, "Would you know what he would be interested in?" he asked casually, leaning over the counter, folding his bare hands together. Looking at his hands, tracing his knuckles with his eyes, reminded Dean of the black leather gloves he was still wearing. He held his hat in both hands, more to have something to do with his hands than anything. 

> Dean nodded, "Yeah well, he's a lawyer, but I know he is into the kind of books that makes you think. Stuff like history if he'd going into some non-fiction crap, or mythology if he wanted to read some non-fiction?" He said it with a question, not very sure. He hadn't seen Sam in awhile, and he could have easily changed his views. 

> Last time Dean had seen him was a few months ago, and he had found some gal named Jessica. A sweet thing, with looping blond curls and a pretty face, she had a bright personality. She'd looked intelligent and was even a little snarky. Two years ago, when he'd met her in September, she'd told him that she had met Sam after a women's rights movement, and he had spoken to her about it. He knew that Sam, the sympathetic puppy that he was, had agreed that women should have the right to vote, and fully supported Jess. He'd even fought for many women during some major cases leading up to August 26th, 1920, when the government had added that women could vote to the Amendments in the U.S Constitution. Dean was glad for her and other women, though had never really been involved by the entire situation. Still being a fairly young man, because thirty was still young surely, it had never exactly bothered him, and he had been open to it.

> Again, he was shoved away from those thoughts as the man made a little "Ah," sound, and scuffled to the back of the bookstore. Dean wondered what kind of book he had thought of, and waited a bit impatiently at the front of the bookstore, not ready to lose himself in the maze of bookshelves and books that littered the floor in a somehow organized fashion.

> However, after awhile his impatience got the better of him, and he made his way through the looping cornfield flooding with hundreds of books. He still hung onto his hat with his left hand, as he unfamiliarly maneuvered his way over and around the books, steadying himself with his right hand when his foot snagged on a book titled "The Street Called Straight". What irony, as as soon as he peeled his eyes away from the book, he found himself face to face with the keeper of the bookstore. Dean couldn't help himself as he let out a little gasp, stumbling over some more books and crashing into the man, heated chests pressed against one another. 

> "Shit-" Dean stammered, "Sorry I just uh- Wasn't sure if I was supposed to follow you and I-"

> The man chuckled lowly, but smiled warmly, bringing a hand to Dean's shoulder, both of them still chest to chest. "Of course. It's fine, sir." He said in that low voice that still gave Dean the chills. Though it surely was not arousing him in any way at all. The man held up a brand new book, with a hard leather cover, a light rusty color, with letters engraved in gold reading, "The Outline of History" the author being H.G. Wells. Whoever that was Dean could care less at the moment, because the man continued to speak. "I believe you brother would like this. It's still fairly new, as it was published two years ago. It is also known as 'The Whole Story of Man' and 'Being Plain History of Life and Mankind'. If your brother is interested in history, this would greatly please him. However I had just thought up a fiction series he might enjoy as well. It has to do with mythology and religion, and I myself enjoyed much of it."

> Though he really didn't understand exactly what the man was rambling about (it was like Sam talking about his nerdy books all over again), Dean nodded shortly, before the man pushed him away from him gently, and resumed his walk to the front of the bookstore. Dean stood frozen for a moment before he joined the man, who was rummaging through books behind the counter. Dean leaned across it, chin held in hands, and elbows propped up on the sleek wooden surface. "So," he drawled out after a few moments of silence, "You have a name?"

> The man looked back at him with curious eyes, sparked up with something Dean couldn't place his finger on. Dean let out a charming smile, eyebrows raised, and the man gave him a small, almost shy, smile back after nodding, "Yes I do. My name is Castiel Novak. Would you mind informing me what yours is?" He asked curtly, sharp eyes turning back to his work of pulling out books, reading over them, shaking his head lightly, and repeating the process.

> "Yeah." Dean said as he watched the man's motions, "Name's Dean Winchester."

> The man- Castiel- nodded, and Dean could see from the side that he had a small smile form on his face, his eyes twinkling as he flipped through the next books and set them aside. 

> "Here it is." Castiel said lowly, holding up a simple white books with black ink leave designs in the front. "'The Golden Bough'. It was interesting to read, and speaks openly about religion, magic, and mythology. This is the first volume, if your brother is interested in reading more, he is more than welcome to ask me about them." 

> Dean grinned a little, knowing his brother would actually love that. Both books were perfect for the nerd, "Alright. I'll let him know. And yeah, I'll take them both. Thanks Cas." Wait shit. "I mean Castiel- sorry- It's just kind of easier to say Cas and I wasn't really thinking." Why did he keep making a fool of himself? Dammit.

> Castiel merely seemed amused about Dean's stumbling attempts, but he shook his head, "It's alright Dean. Nobody has really given me a nickname before. . .It's nice." He stated lightly, the corner of his eyes still crinkled. And Jesus he was beautiful. Dean could hardly tear his eyes away from the man's gorgeous blue ones. Castiel didn't seem bothered by the staring, and was willingly staring right back at him.

> "Right. Cas. I'll just pay for these then. Thanks, again. It's cool of you to have helped me. I'm sure Sam will love these." He stated easily, still wringing his hands around his hat. 

> Castiel nodded, taking out a notepad and writng down the title of the books he was selling to Dean. Dean pulled out a few crumpled bills from his coat's pocket, and handed them to Castiel, hoping it would cover both books. It did. 

> "Alright." Castiel said, looking a little lost now that Dean was to go, "Have a good day." He looked away, and picked up a book, one he had probably been reading before Dean had gotten here, and started at the place he had left off on.

> "You too Cas." Dean started to the door, putting his fedora on his head, as he held the two books in hand. He pushed open the door easily, though before he stepped out of the warm and cozy bookstore, he said to the man, "I'll probably be back Cas, Sam is going to really want some more of these mythology books." 

> He glanced back, and saw a bright smile from Castiel. He nodded a little to the man, his hands still full, and got a small wave back. He exited the bookstore before he could let anymore cold air enter the building. A droplet of rain hit his nose, and immediately Dean was glad that he had put the roof of his baby up. He half jogged half ran to his precious vehicle, stuffing the books underneath his coat, and dove inside the car. He'd have to hurry home before the rain flooded the inside of his car. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so anon pointed out that the Great Depression does not start until 1929. That is true in /America/, I was looking up in general and whoops~ So I am fixing sorry sorry!


	2. Special News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Sam's birthday! He gets Dean's presents, and guest starring John and Mary. Also, Sam and Jess have a little surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got excited. So two chapters today. My anon loved the first one and I am determined to bring on the fluff. Hope they also ship Sam/Jess. If this was set sometime else, I would have Sabriel'ed it. Ah well~! Hope you like. (Also I would love to see Mary's and Jess' interaction and giggling so cute).

**May 2nd, 1992.**

> A pleased smile crossed Sam's face as he opened the sloppily wrapped presents his brother handed to him. “Shoot Dean, these look good.” He said just glancing at the titles of the books alone. Sam opened up the first page of the history book. He leaned over, gray-green eyes intent on reading the first few paragraphs, and his unusually long hair falling over at the motion. Dean waited nervously as he read, not sure if his brother would be interested at all. What if he hated them? Before another 'What if' could cross his mind though, Sam let out a low and long whistle. He turned to Dean and said, “Damn.” 

> Dean gave him an uneasy smile, and motioned to the other book underneath. Sam nodded, closing the history book and began to skim the next one. Dean watched as his eyes widened in fascination. He cleared his throat, and said to Sam, “Yeah, the man at the bookstore said if you were interested in this, that I should tell you there are more books on it.” Subconsciously, Dean rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit that his brother had tuned in on. 

> Sam slapped Dean on the knee, startling the other. “Of course man. This looks great! Both of them. Really Dean, thanks a lot man.” Sam flashed his brother a grin, a glint in his eyes as he took in Dean's expression. 

> Of course, Dean being the manly man that he was, brushed it off and said, “Goddammit Sam, no heart to heart moments right now man. It's your freaking birthday, just shut up.” He rolled his eyes at his brother. They both turned to the kitchen when they heard a clutter of glass and silverware. 

> Sam got the most girly, soft, and mushy look on his face when they heard Jess sing out, “Dinner is ready! Sam when are your parents coming around?” They could both hear her practically dancing around the kitchen in her short heels, and Dean let out a chuckle at Sam's expression. 

> Right on cue, there came a knock on the door, and Sam hurried to answer it, calling out to Jess, “I've got it!”. Dean watched in amusement, still sitting in one of the armchairs in the living room, and glancing down at the two books that Sam had placed neatly on the coffee table. He stood up when their parents walked in. John looked gruff as usual, though he smiled brightly when he saw Sam and Dean. Mary, looked beautiful, and smelled of sweets as she usually did. The family all took their turns hugging each other and greeting each other. 

> “Oh look John! Look how tall Sam's gotten!” “And Dean, looks like you've been building up some muscle.” “Yes, Mary, I know. You say this every time we see them.” “I know John, but just look at them! Don't you remember when they were younger! . . .” 

> Just then, Jess practically came bounding out of the kitchen, smiling and beaming. “Like I said,” she reminded the brothers, “Dinner is ready. Mr. Winchester, Mrs. Winchester, welcome.” 

> Dean smiled widely as the family gathered around the table, Mary and John sitting next to each other, while Sam and Jess sat next to each other. Mary complimented the house and the food. Easily, she and Jess got into a deep and fluttering conversation about recipes and something else Dean couldn't catch up on. His father talked about how hunting was going, and Sam about his job as a lawyer. 

> “Dean, what have you been doing?” John asked with raised eyebrows, as he stuffed his mouth with another forkful of mashed potatoes, and making the occasional, “Mmhh,” sound as he did so. 

> It was never any fun to talk about his life. He didn't do much. Dean worked as a mechanic at Mr. Singer's garage, he worked on cars and the occasional motorcycle. That was all there was to it. He wasn't a revolutionary inventor or anything, just a simple man with a job he enjoyed. After work, he'd go to the bar, drink a few drinks, and maybe bring home a girl for the night. Compared to the rest of his family, his life was downhill, but he enjoyed hearing about how their lives were going, and was glad for them all. 

> He was thankful that he didn't need to answer his father, as he heard his mother squeal in delight and everyone turned to her. “Mary?” John asked worriedly, but soon he saw it. They all did. The engagement ring on Jessica's finger. For a moment everyone was silent, until John turned to Sam and smiled broadly, “Well, when were you going to tell us?” 

> Sam flushed, ducking his head down, “At dessert.” He admitted. Dean turned to Jess, offering her a smile, and she chuckled a little bit. 

> His family was definitely better off than he was. Though Dean couldn't help feeling a bit torn at the fact that Sam was getting married to the girl of his dreams, he wouldn't need Dean at all now. And Dean was sure he was going to be left alone forever. 

> He felt a stab of guilt at the selfish thoughts, and quickly brushed them aside, flashing a grin at Sam, slapping him on the back and piping up, “Good for you man! When's the wedding?” 


	3. Not Exactly Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to peek into Castiel's mind for a bit! What fun!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fact that I got one chapter up is shocking, but I am continuing? I am worried this is not like me at all. Oh well. I SWEAR FLUFF COMES NEXT THOUGH WOOT! Well beginning of fluff.

**Later That Night**

> He wiped the counters clean, until the polished wood shone, and stuffed what he could into the crowded bookshelves, before he walked to the front door of the cozy bookstore he considered more of a home than his own bare and lifeless house. Castiel wiped his hands on his slacks, and threw on his long tan trench coat. He dug into the pocket of the coat for his keys, and carefully locked up the shop. 

> Castiel's house was only a few blocks away, and was only about nine in the night. On the clear Spring day, the sun still was creeping its rays from below the horizon, hinting the dark sky with splashes of pink and lavender. He walked down the streets with his head to the ground, and hands shoved into his pockets. The town was quiet at night, most people tucked away into their modest homes as darkness swept most of the light out of the sky. 

> His own house was small, kept nice and clear. Except for a few books he brought home from his bookstore to read, it didn't have the barest hint of personality. His personality was all in the bookstore he had put everything into. If he could live there as well, he would in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, the building his bookstore was kept in was a single story one, with no other rooms. So Castiel kept paying the rent for the house he had never put any interest in. 

> He crept into the home, opening the front door and flipping on the lights. The house was close enough to the shop so he could easily walk between the two. Castiel required the bare minimums that could be found down at the street and at the shopping center. The living room was small, a cozy couch sat against one wall, a wooden end table sat tucked between the couch's arm and the wall. Across from the couch, a fireplace sat, hardly used, even in the winter. A coffee table sat between the fireplace and the couch, a few books laid out on top of it. 

> By the front door, a coat hanger stood proudly waiting for Castiel to use it. He agreeably shrugged out of his trademark trench coat, and hung it on the rack neatly. He glanced at the large Colin Kennedy Radio that his brother had purchased for him just last year for Christmas. He rarely used that as well, and he let a smile waver onto his face as he thought of Gabriel when he had pridefully presented it to him, enthusiastic to see Castiel's expression. Of course he had no idea what the item was, and looked baffled at the sight of the large machine that now took up the entire wall that rested between the couch and fireplace. 

> Castiel slumped past the kitchen, not feeling up to digging around the cupboards and cold box to see what he had to eat. Rather, he walked into his bare bedroom, the bed sitting in the middle of the room, neatly made. He sit down on the edge of the bed, and put his head in his hands. He thought of the man, Dean Winchester, who he had just met days ago. The man was too gorgeous for him to handle, and he swore he saw a story in those emerald green eyes. Castiel sighed, cursing himself for being so disgusting. Nobody in their right minds would approve of such an attraction. Normally, Castiel had never really put thought into this kind of stuff, he'd never been attracted to any other woman or man, so he had been surprised when he found himself staring at Dean. 

> Lying back on his bed, hands over his head, Castiel thought of him. The lightly tanned skin, with a golden glow to it, soft freckles along his cheeks and running down his jaw and to his neck. Most likely his collar bone too. And those beautiful eyes, green as a forest, with specks of golden sunlight shining through. Longer lashes than a girl would dream of having, and plush pink lips too. 

> Castiel only stopped himself when thinking of how he would look shirtless, because surely undressing _anyone_ , man or woman, in your mind was a major sin. He inhaled a deep breath, and sat up again, getting up on his feet to putter over to his closet. Quickly, Castiel dressed and changed into some striped briefs. He went back to his bed, and buried himself underneath the thick and cozy blankets, seeping into the warmth. In less than ten minutes, sleep rightfully overtook him. 


	4. Meeting Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel meet again! Will the author finally put in her effort into some fluffy moments? We'll see!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I hit post limit early today. Like really freaking early, so I am hoping my anon will just happen to look at this page and love on it. Because I cannot post anything on Tumblr. Besides that though, I realized last night the title of this might throw some people off, since well, leather can have some smutty implications. Yeah I guess you are right. But I was thinking more along the lines of books and cars. Whoops. Smart move. 
> 
> Like cars as in leather seats and books leather covers. Idk anymore. Hope you like anon!
> 
> PS: Let me know if smut is allowed because I am a brilliant smut writer and will gladly deliver such to this story.

**May 10th, 1922**

> It wasn't as if Dean was eagerly waiting until enough time passed to visit the bookstore again or anything but . . . well wait actually, that was just it. And he felt kind of creepy about it too. Oh well, maybe he could get into some books while he got Sam's books. He'd read a few, though was not too interested in most that he had read. 

> Deep down in his heart, Dean knew that he was only going because Castiel had lighten up a spark in him that he had thought was long ago devoured by the icy hands of the world. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but it was an interest in another human being at least, one that was not family or already a friend. A complete stranger. Most of all, it was not some dull lust needing spark he held when with all those nameless girls. 

> Dean Winchester had never wanted to be _that_ kind of man, but why else would he be standing outside the 'Novak's Bookshop' again? The day was brighter, clearer, though now it was closer to evening. When he had last come here, it was in the afternoon. Though one could hardly tell with the weather. The weather today though, was perfect. A perfect Spring day, sunny and clear, with crisp grass stained air, and ruffling sprouting grass sprouting in the cracks of the sidewalk from the shower from the previous days. 

> Unsteadily, Dean walked into the bookshop, the familiar jingling of the two golden bells he now spotted over the doorway overhead, held together by a red ribbon, sounded throughout the musty and clammy bookstore. Compared to outside, the air was thick and warm. It smelled like the pages of old worn out books, ink, and of the warm scent of wood. He smiled to himself, deciding he could get used to the hearty scents of the small bookstore. 

> “Just a minute!” He heard Castiel call from the back of the bookstore. The shop was as untidy as it had been the last time he had come, if not more so. Books were strewn across the counters, bookshelves, and floor in a muddle of mystical organization. 

> This time, Dean stayed right where he was, not wanting to embarrassingly run chest to chest into Castiel again. Moments later, he saw the man peer from behind a bookcase, carrying about ten enormous books in his arms. He was slightly off balance for a moment, though regained it easily, mapping his way around the books set on the ground, and Dean had to wonder if the man had somehow memorized the clutter. 

> When Castiel set the books on the counter, and turned to see the customer, Dean could see his eyes widen, as he made a small 'o' shape with his mouth. He only breathed out the “Oh” sound though. 

> Dean smiled, however what was meant to be a charming smile came off as shy, and he could slap himself for the girly mistake. If it was Sam, he would tease him for the rest of his life, but he knew he wouldn't live this down past the grave. Well thank God the only witness was Castiel, who he could have sworn blushed lightly. Whether or not he did, Dean was not sure, because the man quickly regained his posture, and turned his back on Dean, searching through the books he had on shelves behind the counter. 

> “Did your brother enjoy the books?” He asked politely, so matter-of-fact that Dean began to doubt if Castiel had truly blushed. For all he knew, it was all in his head. 

> Easily his mind could be making it all up. 

> Dean placed his hand on his neck, rubbing at it nervously, “Yeah he loved them. Read the history one already, and is already pouncing on the other one you suggested.” He said with a small chuckle, thinking of his nerdy little brother. 

> Castiel nodded, obviously pleased. He turned so that he was facing Dean again, though he was carrying a book in hand, open to some page. “I am glad he is liking them. Are you here on his behalf? Or could I interest you in some books on your own?” 

> Another tight and nervous chuckle slipped past his lips, and Dean shoved his hands in his pocket, upset he had nothing for his hands to do. “Nawh, I don't really _do_ books. My brother is the smart one in the family. Damn proud of him too. I'm just-” He swallowed, “Just a mechanic.” 

> Castiel frowned, and looked like he wanted to say something, though after a moment, it seemed that the man thought better of it. He offered a thin smile and said, “Well, then how can I help you today?” 

> Again with the starring. It was intense, and Dean didn't think anyone has looked at him like that in his life. Not ever. He would have called it creepy if it had been anyone else, but Castiel looked genuinely interested and concerned, and Dean secretly craved the attention. 

> He cleared his throat, and said uneasily, “Uhm.” Obviously the intelligent mutter was understandable. He glanced away from Castiel's questioning gaze, and finally settled on, “Yeah, I actually don't need to be here. I should stop bothering you. I'll just excuse mysel-” 

> He snapped his head to Castiel when the man exclaimed, “No!” Looking completely embarrassed by the sudden outburst, Castiel bobbed his head down, so that Dean could not see his face, and lightly said, again, “No. I mean, you are not bothering me . . . and uhm you are good company. I don't get too many customers so you would not be nuisance at all. . .” 

> Dean smiled faintly, and nodded, breathing easier. “Alright then. Thanks. I don't really have much to do anyways.” He said casually, stepping closer to the counter, feeling much more at ease now that he knew he was at least not aggravating the man yet. 

> Castiel whipped his head up again, his brown hair sex-crazed and falling in his eyes. “Of course Dean. I would appreciate it if you could help however. It's not too difficult. As you can see though,” Castiel said, gesturing to the book littered floors, “I need new shelves. I have been hammering them on the walls in the back, so if you wouldn't mind,it would be quite helpful-” 

> “Yeah, yeah Cas, I think I know how to hammer a nail into the wall,” Dean said with a loose and easy going grin. “Do you have all the wood and tools in the back?” He asked, eyebrows raised. 

> With a light nod, Castiel made his way out of the area behind the counter, and headed toward the back. Dean could hear him murmur to himself, “I should have gotten around to this months ago. . .” Dean grinned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a thing for flustered Cas and Dean alright? Sue me. Next chapter will be in Castiel's POV. I think so at least. Have not started. But will plan. If you have any fluff suggestions, anon me on my tumblr (bumble-cas.tumblr.com). Thanks!


	5. Sweet Moves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eye starring, fluff, and finally, what is this?! But a move from one of these dorks? Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear. Cute. Ish? Right? Maybe? Wrote like half of this in History, the other half after school. I am tired. Night peeps, hope you like anon.

**Like Five Minutes Later**

> Castiel held onto the shelf firmly in place as Dean in nailed it in place, both hands busy with the work, so one nail was held between his teeth, his plush pinks parting slightly. Castiel watched as the man steadily hammered the shelf to the wall, his vibrant green eyes sharp and focused, his parted lips set into a slight pout. He couldn't help but let a small smile slip past his lips, which immediately caught the other man's attention. 

> “What?” Dean asked defensively, self-consciously checking himself out to see what he had done, then doing a double take on the shelves. 

> Castiel chuckled lowly, watching as Dean tensed up at the rumble of the laughter, but he shook his head so that his rumpled up hair swayed with the motion and casually said, “Oh, it's nothing.” 

> “Obviously it's nothing.” Dean muttered grumpily, finishing off the hammering for that particular shelf. With a free hand that had been previously been holding the nail in place, he now ran his hand through his sandy blond hair. 

> Castiel let out another bark of laughter at the man, unintentionally, and he rightfully received a dirty look for it. “Sorry- Just, the way you reacted . . .” He unsuccessfully explained, slightly meek. 

> Again, Dean set his lips to that pout, though he rolled his gorgeous green eyes, and sighed in exasperation. After the eye roll, he caught Castiel's eyes, since he was still starring. They kept the intense eye contact like that, Castiel frozen in place, still pressing the already nailed shelf into place. 

> He felt like if he broke the eye contact, he would miss something. He knew for a fact that Dean being gorgeous wasn't all that was to do with this keen interest he had in him. There was something else about him, that Castiel would never find out unless he learned more about the man. The appearance was just the cover of the book, however it was enough to go on to figure out some of what the book was about, but not enough. He wanted to pour himself into every page about the man named Dean Winchester, to eagerly drown himself in the man's story, to hold the story close to his heart. He knew that Dean had no doubt about his own beauty, but he could tell he hated to tell his story. Castiel wanted to eagerly flip away the cover, but he reminded himself to take his time in it. Just as he would a book. 

> Dean finally tore his eyes away from Castiel, he was the one to back away from the strange game. Castiel smirked victoriously, and Dean grumbled something about how he was a stupid cheater and it didn't count. 

> After awkwardly clearing his throat, and wringing his hands together, Dean finally asked, “Uhm, next shelf?” He glanced at Castiel, whose hands were still steady on the shelf. Hurriedly, he removed his hands, wiping them on his black slacks. He merely nodded with a faint trace of a smile. 

> They worked quickly and quietly, with a few remarks from either of them, though there wasn't too much to speak about. Evening eventually dwindled to the early hours of the dusk, and Castiel let out a sigh after the sixth modest shelf they'd nailed to the wall, and finally spoke, “I think that is enough for today. I really appreciate the help Dean.” 

> Dean looked up at him, already walking to the next shelf to put up. He paused for a moment, looking Castiel for signs of- well he didn't know exactly what Dean was looking for to be honest. For a moment though, he just seemed to be observing him, until he stood up straight, and nodded sheepishly. “Yeah alright Cas.” 

> Castiel watched nervously as Dean walked to the front of the bookstore, and started to the door, though he paused just before he left. He turned to Castiel and asked oddly, “You don't get too many customers?” 

> Well, that was not the question he had been expecting. Humbly he shook his head, leaning over the counter where he had somehow ended up behind, and said, “Not too many no. This was the wrong place to set up a bookstore. There is a better one in the other town, there the people are actually interested in reading . . .” He said, question lacing his voice. 

> Dean nodded, and walked up to the counter until he was leaning across, face to face with Castiel. Dean was either tormenting him or unconscious about the action, but he wanted greedily as the man lipped his lower lip with his tongue, and Castiel had to stop looking to meet the man's eyes. “I think it's a good place. I mean I am not a big reader, but it's comfortable and all. Wonder why you don't get more customers.” He seemed to be pondering on it. 

> Castiel's breath hitched slightly. Up this close to Dean, he could see the light freckles peppered across his cheeks and nose, his eyes a brilliant maze of green and amber, and his lips, dear Lord, his lips were so close to his- 

> And it was not Castiel who closed the gap between them. He swore it wasn't. He swore on his books, his bookshop, his messed up family, on any Gods that were ever to be believed in that it wasn't him. For a second, while their lips were touching, a heated gorgeous wet mess between them, he started to wonder if it was him. But no, he was wide eyed and starring at Dean, while the other was closing his eyes, so that his long lashes brushed against his soft cheeks, sweeping across the freckles and tanned skin lightly. It couldn't have been him, right? 

> It felt so perfect, so right. He hesitantly brought his hand and splayed his fingers into Dean's hair, though as soon as they were buried in the sandy brown, thick hair, he dug his fingernails into the man's scalp, and he pressed closer to him. Castiel canted his head so that they were at the perfect angle, and the kiss was so uplifting and so wonderful, with his heart beating rapidly, he wondered why he hadn't ever done this before. 

>   
> _Obviously, because he hadn't had Dean to do this with before now._ He reasoned with himself. 

> The moment that had lasted forever, was still fleeting, and mere moments had passed by in reality. Dean tugged away, when his eyes opened, he looked horrified at his own rash actions. Before Castiel could even think of a sentence to form, Dean fled. He pushed his way off the counter, opening the door of the bookstore, making the bells tinkle lightly, then running to his vehicle. For a moment, Castiel stood there stunned, until the thought that if he let Dean run off now, he would most likely never see him again. So he started to run, leaving his shop empty and unattended to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: That title though, am I right? Hope you liked. Some more Dean headspace next! Prepare for a freak out. hahah. ha.


	6. Not A Total Screw Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The word "fuck" is used a lot. And "dammit". But happyish ending for the chapter? I mean . ..a lot better than what Dean was expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally wrote this in my math class.

**Still The Same Day**

> He hadn't meant to do it. Holy shit he had not meant to do it! Dammit! Castiel was going to hate him, already did surely. Worse, he could beat Dean to death for what he had done. Then Sam would find out about how he died, and would ask Castiel why he did it, and the man would tell Sam everything and he would live the rest of his life repulsed, disgusted, and ashamed of his older brother. And John, oh god John- Thoughts like this tore Dean's mind apart bit by bit as he scrambled into his beloved vehicle, merely running on adrenaline with his quick motions. He quickly started the box shaped car, and waited for it to hum to life. The old thing was wheezing with the sudden pumps of the accelerator Dean pressed with his foot.

> Dean heard dress shows slap among the dusty dirt pavement, small huffs from the man calling out, “Wait!” and snarling out, “Dean!” His mind froze for a split second, because surely Castiel was snarling out the breathless words, and growling after he said Dean's name. He had to get away, _but his car wouldn't freakin' budge._

> And before he knew what he was doing, he was hopping out of his Baby, tapping on the wheel one last time before he had to ditch it, a sort of goodbye, and he was racing across the street, running through a few people, and down the block, past small little shops. The colors whizzed by in a flurry, the wind whipping his face harshly. Dim street lights shone a light orange color, and the shops he passed by had a warm glow coming from their windows. He heard Castiel at his heels still though, letting out a whine of protest from the man. He was chasing him, and Dean was so fucking dead. Fuck. He was a freaking idiot. What was he even thinking? To kiss another man, dear Lord! What the hell was wrong with him? 

> Despite speeding up, and running as fast as he could as he weaved his way through the groups of people on the sidewalk, the bookshop keeper nearly ran at an inhuman pace. He felt a hand grip at his left shoulder, grabbing on tightly, and skidding them both to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. 

> Oh God, this was it. He was _so_ going to get it. Dean stood frozen, like a dear when he and his Dad went hunting years ago. When the made the tiniest sound, the dear would freeze, its entire body rigid and tense, its eyes alert and looking nervously around. Dean stood like that now, standing stock still, the only movements he made from his heavy breathing from the adrenaline rushed run. He was shaking too, but he also blamed that on the adrenaline. Dean would never admit he was frightened as hell. 

> What happened instead shocked and frightened him more than if Castiel had upper cut his jaw. He felt the other man take him in his arms, his warm arms holding him, enveloping him firmly. They stood like that, across the street and blocks away from the bookstore for a few moments. Castiel wrapping himself around Dean protectively, as the other man stood rigidly in shock. Eventually, he let himself fold into the man's embrace, melting into his arms with ease. He tucked his nose between Castiel's neck and shoulder, finding the little nook comforting. 

> People walked by them, looking at them oddly, though not really saying anything about it. Faintly, Dean wondered just how ridiculous of a scene they had made. How hilarious they must look now. Two grown ass men holding each other after recklessly dashing across the street. He smiled slightly when he felt Castiel's hot lips at his temple, pressing into it tenderly, while he loosely ran his hand through Dean's hair. 

> Dean felt a pang of guilt strike him in the stomach as he realized the sensation of Castiel's hand was familiar, realizing even further that the man had done the same thing during the kiss. Fuck. 

> Numbly, Dean could hear himself blubber out sloppy apologies, and he more felt rather than heard the whispers Castiel murmured to him, “It's alright now Dean.” the warm breath brushing across his ear. 

> Dean finally took a deep fluttering breath, acknowledging that even though it was nearly eight in the evening, the sky was still alive with a stain of periwinkle, the edges fraying out into a royal blue color. 

> He burrowed away from Castiel's safe arms, taking another breath of fresh air. He eyed the man for a moment, seeing the hand that was held out for him, and cautiously took it, not clearly thinking, and starving for the comfort it held. He followed as Castiel led him to the bookstore again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More? Okay. I like this a lots. Not sure how long this is going to be though whoa.


	7. Read In Between The Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and Dean have a little chat and make a deal. The deal obviously includes more in between the lines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Thursday and Friday I was beat and just could not bring myself to write. In my History class, we are actually learning about the 1920s-1930s, and so I have learned the lingo and slang of the 1920s. Used like one in this one. But yeah, watch out for the cheezy words I plan to use on you all!

**I Think You Get It**

> The light clatter of the golden bells rang when Castiel opened the door to the bookstore, steering Dean into the front of the shop. He thought quickly, and maneuvered the man to a comfortable chair at the back corner of the store, the one with a colorful quilt draped homely over it. Dean glanced at it quizzically for a moment, as if he just realized that he was in the shop, but soon after let himself drop ungracefully into the armchair. 

> Castiel hovered over the man for a moment, before he crouched down on his knees by the armchair, and put a hand on Dean's arm. He noticed for the first time in a long time that clean and musty smell of the books was filling the bookstore. The dim lights burning lowly from the ceiling lights overhead filled the shop with an aura of warmness. Under his knees was another rug, different from the one at the front of the shop, laid clumsily over the wooden floor. Books lined the shelves neatly, and the ones on the floor waited patiently in front of the newly built shelves. 

> Lightly, Castiel squeezed Dean's forearm, tugging the other man back into reality, and offered him a weak smile, one that barely reached his eyes. “Are you alright Dean?” He asked worriedly, hoping that soon this dazed trance would be snapped out of. Dean nodded dizzily, and Castiel sighed, pushing himself back up onto his feet. Might as well get something done while he waited for Dean to regain his sense of awareness. 

> He walked over to the books that littered the floor, and eyed the shelves, deciding that he would have to organize them in an orderly fashion. He picked up a few books in his arms, and started to arrange them on the shelves. Castiel started his work and momentarily got lost in his own thoughts. Occasionally he would let a small glance at Dean slip. 

> It was odd, but he didn't feel too much different. He'd kissed a few girls, though was never very interested in the action, but it didn't feel quite as different he imagined it would with a man. Physically at least. Emotionally, the kiss had been perfect, it had ignited something that he figured he'd shoved into the back of his soul years ago. Something he was not even aware of, couldn't quite place. It dawned on him now, that maybe Dean was in such a trance because of the same thing. Or maybe he was disgusted with himself. Along with Castiel. He shivered at the thought, and again sneaked another look at the man, who was still sitting rigidly in the armchair. He was tempted to push the man back into the chair, to force him to relax a little bit. He decided better on it, continuing to place the books onto the shelves. 

> The last book somehow appeared in his hands, and he stared at it curiously for a moment before he squeezed it onto the third shelf. There were still three more left. If anymore books came in, he wouldn't need to worry too much for awhile. 

> Castiel walked over to Dean, who seemed to have recollected himself slightly. He was looking around himself, blinking in confusion. Castiel smiled at him sheepishly when Dean's eyes met with his. He extended his hand out for Dean to take, and the man hesitantly took it, getting onto his own feet. 

> “Sorry about that.” Dean said lowly, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. 

> “About what?” Castiel asked, because he knew Dean was either sorry about his trance, or about the kiss in general. He didn't need to be sorry about either. 

> Dean gestured around the two of them with his hands, sighing after he realized that wasn't saying anything to Castiel, and finally murmured, “Everything. The kiss. That was- That was fucked up of me.” 

> Castiel's heart lurched, because maybe Dean _did_ regret kissing Castiel, of all people. Maybe it was a lousy kiss to the other. Castiel might have been the only one who thought it had something intertwined in it, something deep and magic like. He swallowed though, and said steadily, “That's nothing to be sorry about. If you hadn't done it, I would have eventually.” 

> Dean, who had been looking at the fascinating rug underneath their feet during this exchange, finally looked up at Castiel's sea-blue eyes, and furrowed his own brows in confusion. Finally he said so quietly that Castiel had to lean in to hear what he was saying, “So you don't, like, hate me for that? Or regret it or anything?” 

> Smiling sincerely, Castiel nodded, and said with a little laugh, “I thought I had already made that clear. No Dean, I do not regret it at all . . .You don't right?” He asked uncertainly. Since those nasty little thoughts were still swimming at the surface of his mind. 

> Letting out a breath of relief, Dean stated in a more confident voice, “No, I don't. That was- It was great Cas.” A small smile wavered on the man's tanned face, dappled in light gorgeous freckles. Castiel smiled back.

> Obviously everything was fine between the two of them. Thank goodness. 

> “Could ask that you come again tomorrow?” Castiel asked, his eyes still meeting with Dean's. The greenness of them was astounding, and he found that there was more than just green, but some amber and gold was mixed in them as well. He wouldn't mind looking at them forever. 

> Dean grinned, and said easily, “Sure, ya sap. As long as you let me drive you home. Noticed you don't have a car.” 

> Relieved, Castiel nodded. “Deal.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: I was going to make Dean say "That was awesome." When speaking about the kiss, until I realized that was probably not even a word in the 1920's. Also I have no idea what I am going to do about his music tastes. Maybe I'll get some inspiration from the film "Swing Kids" in my history class~


	8. Carrying A Torch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks have gone by, and Dean finally realizes something frightening and wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fluff and domestication on the way! Then some smut, because we all need some of that. I am loving this so far. Like so much.

**May 25th, 1922**

> Only two weeks had passed, and Dean was already comfortable with Castiel after the kissing incident. He tried to visit the shop after working at Bobby's, and Castiel welcomed him with open arms. 

> Honestly, Dean found it a blessing that Castiel had hardly any customers. Every once and awhile, he would have a few customers in the shop, asking where so-and-so book was, or would just drop by to curl up in one of the armchairs and read a book. However, that was a rare occasion, usually on the weekends. 

> It was a Thursday today though. Lately, when Dean rolled out of his bed, untangling himself from the sheets, he got this giddy feeling when he thought of going to the bookstore. They'd only kissed a few more times, though twice out of those few times it had turned into a full on make out sessions. Dean still wasn't sure what to call the relationship between them, all he knew for sure was that the only time he had felt this was years ago, when he was still moving around a lot, for the girl Cassie. Another forbidden interest, since the girl was colored. They had kept it down low, and nobody had found out. However Dean had to move away again, needed to keep in touch with his family. He liked that girl and it was the only time he had felt this weird feeling for. 

> Though now he was feeling the same thing for Castiel. He liked the feeling, but secretly wished that he could just be normal and like a dolled up white girl instead. If they ever wanted to bring this any further, well, surely that would never happen in their lifetime. 

> While all this went through Dean's mind, he was also battling with himself and his feelings for the guy. He knew he liked the guy, but the question was, _just how much?_ His family would never support this, and society certainly wouldn't. Just how far was he going to bring this odd relationship along until it crashed and burned? 

> Thursday morning. Dean walked up to his breezer, patting his baby on the head longingly, and climbed in. He started the car up, and started to drive. Dean wore a straw boater hat with a dark blue strip of fabric tied around it on, a white dress shirt, a brown vest and a blue tie. He wore a plain black jacket over both items, and tan slacks with black dress shoes. 

> He drove down the dirt roads from his house, dwindling just outside the town, and into the shopping center of the town. Dust swiveled up from underneath his tires and into the clear blue sky. The sun beat down eagerly on Dean, and he couldn't help but smile to himself, feeling unusually happy and calm this morning. He had decided to visit Castiel before he went to the garage to work this morning, eager to see the other man. Dean left his work clothes at work, so he was left free to wear some nice clothing before he got there. 

> He parked on the side of the shop, and left the vehicle immediately after, sneaking himself into the the bookshop, politely taking his hat off out of habit than actual manners. The bells rang as he opened the door, and the stale air of the bookstore hit him in one big wave as he entered the shop. “Cas?” He called out when he didn't see anyone at the front of the shop. 

> He heard the sound of book falling from the back of the shop, and a small yelp. Quickly, Dean hurried to see what was going on. He let out a huff of laughter when he skidded to a stop, to see Castiel sitting on the floor with books toppled on top of the man. He looked like a cartoon out of a comic, books fallen on his lap, and even one half open on the top of his head. He looked up at Dean with annoyance, and maybe even some rare embarrassment dusting his cheeks slightly. “Help me up, would ya?” He grumbled with a pout. 

> Dean cracked a smile, offering Castiel his hand to help him up, and pulled him up. “Of course.” He teased back. “Don't you look all dolled up.” He said looking over Castiel's now rumpled suit. Dean even noticed his tie was on correctly! He did a double take however, and yanked off the silky blue tie. Of course, a clip tie. His grin grew even wider. “Cute.” He drawled out, flicking his eyes up to Castiel's. 

> He watched as Castiel flushed red, from his neck to the tips of his ears, and he snatched the strip of fabric with the metal attachment away from Dean. “Shut it.” He murmured, ripping his eyes away from Dean's, and looking instead at the books littering the floor. He let out an exasperated sigh, unconsciously running a hair through his dark hair, mussing it up just right so that it stuck out, wild as if he had just had sex. 

> Dean couldn't help himself when he slammed Castiel the side of one of the bookshelves, and smiled cheekily at him, asking, “Cash or check?” 

> Castiel blinked, his brows furrowing and his eyes wide and mixed with confusion. Finally he drew out carefully, “Dean, if you want a book, you can just borrow it. There is no need to pay . . .” Of course he didn't understand what it meant. 

> “Cas shut up.” Dean whined, leaning in closer so that their noses were merely inches apart. “Do you want me to kiss you or not?” He practically growled at the man, eyes narrowing and smile widening in excitement. 

> Literally, Dean could see the “Ahh” moment from Castiel, and watched as the other man smirked. “Cash.” He said back, grabbing Dean's jacket by the lapels and tugging him closer, until their lips crashed. Soft, sweet and tender, and yet at the same time it was so much rougher than any kiss he'd had with a girl. Dean knew that didn't even make sense. 

> Lips soft and mushy, disgusting and lovely at the same time met, both daring to flick a tongue into the other's mouth, exploring hesitantly then flicking it back into their own mouths, instead massaging each other's lips with their own. Stubble rubbed against stubble, a harsh burn that was pleasant beyond belief. The sounds from Castiel rumbled from his chest and into Dean's mouth, and damn that vibration was perfect. 

> They pulled apart, each panting and red in the face, gazing into each other's lust filled eyes with a longing neither of them could quite place. Dean smiled a little bit, and Castiel let himself bubble into laughter. This must be the third time they started necking, and it was great. Dean sometimes worried someone would come into the shop while they were like this, but thus far It hadn't happened. 

> “Awh, come on. Why are you laughing?” Dean asked with a playful pout, shoving Castiel slightly as he doubled over with laughter. “That ain't fair, pipe down.” Dean grumbled with lit up eyes as he watched Castiel. 

> After a few more bellyaching laughs, Castiel looked up through his eyelashes and said, “You just look so-” the man pondered, and Dean could see the gears racing in the man's mind as he tried looking for the right words, “Just so red.” He finally said, though Dean could see that there was more behind the man's eyes. 

> “That's total bull.” He complained, as Castiel straightened up, leveling his shoulders and breathing normally again. 

> “Well then, it's a secret.” Castiel stated evenly, rolling his eyes at Dean. 

> Dean scowled, but shrugged it off for now, putting his hands on top of Castiel's broad shoulders, “Later, I oughta' teach you how to tie a tie, huh? It comes in handy, believe me.” 

> Castiel's eyes lit up, and he looked at Dean in surprise, “You know how to?” He asked, and received a nod from Dean. With a small smile he asked in a growl, “What else can you do?” 

> “Well I am pretty goo with my hands.” Dean said back, gaining a great blush from the other, and he chuckled lowly, “That, and cars Cas.” He felt the relieved breath from the other man, his shoulders loosing the tenseness. Dean thought of the question, and shrugged slightly, “I am good at cooking I guess. . .It's kind of girly, don't you tell anyone.” 

> Castiel's smile grew brighter, and he nodded, “Cooking is only considered feminine because of society, but I promise I will not tell anyone.” He stated. Dean could see how much he was struggling not to give him an eye roll. 

> Dean glanced at the clock on the wall, and worried his lower lip between his teeth, looking back at Castiel. “I've gotta head to the garage.” He muttered, letting out a disappointed sigh. He could really get used to hanging around with Castiel. He really liked the guy. More than the kisses and flirting, but for the man himself. Everything about him was just so brilliant. Honestly, he had felt that pull toward him the moment he spoke to him. He just didn't realize why. 

> He still didn't know exactly why. 

> Castiel nodded, looking just as upset about it as Dean did. He leaned in for a quick kiss though, and pecked Dean lightly on the lips. It was almost domestic, the lightness of the kiss, as if he were a dame giving her husband a kiss before he went to work. It was . . . different. A nice kind of different Dean could get used to. 

> “You never told me why you are all dressed up though,” Dean reminded Castiel, quirking an eyebrow in curiosity. 

> Again, Castiel pondered on it, then smiled sweetly, “It's another secret.” He said in a low gravelly voice. 

> “Too many secrets,” Dean whined. He heard the man chuckle, and decided it was worth it. Dean started to walk off, to the front door, though he let the hand on Castiel's shoulder linger until he had to slip it off. He called a “G'day!” to Castiel, retrieved his hat, and left the bookstore with the jingle of light bells. 

> When Dean was safely on the road again, his heart still beating and his face still flushed, he thought over it again. After a few moments, he froze. No way. He had never thought that he would be the one who was carrying a torch. However the more he thought about it, the more it made sense, these strange unfamiliar feelings that were surfacing in him. Oh God, he was screwed. He was already far gone and hopelessly in love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just by the way, Carry a torch is like slang for being hopelessly in love. Yeah. I might overuse slang but it's so fun~! If I misuse it please inform me! Thanks!


	9. Surprise Cusomter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel has a long hard day in the shop. Toward the end of this long day, he has a surprise customer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put loads of research into the woman's outfit. You better like it. . . okay I didn't try too hard, and did not add colors, but only because I was looking at black and white photos. I'll do it later.

**May 27th, 1922**

> That Saturday was unusually busy. To a point that is was not just shocking, but disturbing. Castiel hurried around the shop, selecting books for the customers that streamed in frequently throughout the day. The only breath he was given was between a few handful of people. Even then, he wasn't allowed a moment of silence to himself where he could read his own book. 

> Of Castiel would learn later that the usual bookstore down in the bigger town had been closed down, and all the books were sold out. He didn't know that now however, and so was muddling his way through in confusion as new faces merged with the few familiar ones. 

> The customers finally started to dwindle down that evening. Castiel allowed himself to excuse himself for a moment, heading behind the counter and to the bathroom, where he let out a sigh of relief. He looked at himself in the mirror, his hair sticking up wildly in all places, his face red from running around the warm shop. Too warm for the oncoming summer. He would need to get a fan for the shop. As well as open up the windows and start airing in the musty bookshop a little more. 

> Castiel covered his face in cool water, embracing the coolness upon his heated skin. He'd hardly had any time to think today, with the sudden outburst of business. It was good, he decided. It meant more money, and perhaps meeting more book-lovers. He let his thoughts wander for the first time since the hustle the morning brought him. Of course his first thoughts were led to Mr. Dean Winchester. 

> They teased each other the way a man and a woman would. They kissed just as passionately. Castiel was also certain that this fluttering feeling in his chest and stomach was caused by thinking of Dean. He wanted to do more with Dean, to _be_ more to him. He craved the touch and the looks, but he was starving for the name of what they were. Castiel was so uncertain about what they were that it was ridiculous. He didn't want to mention it or suggest anything, in fear he would drive Dean away from him. Or that Dean really didn't like him. He selfishly wanted to keep the perfect man with him. 

> Castiel sighed as he heard the clanging of the bells and door from the bathroom, due to the paper-thin walls. He left the bathroom, brushing his hands on his thighs, on the fabric of his plain slacks. He glanced up, seeing a young woman standing at the counter patiently. “How may I help you?” He asked politely, rigidly walking up to the counter, facing across from the woman. 

> The woman smiled. She was, as Dean would say, a doll. She had long blond curls bouncing on her shoulders, a sweet smile and warm eyes. She wore a simple brown cloche hat over her hair, and a long lacy summer dress casually reaching down to her ankles underneath her fur coat. Her face was red, and some of her hair was matted on her face with sweat. Castiel couldn't blame the poor girl for being hot in this weather, while she was wearing a large and thick coat, her white stockings pulled up under her black heels. 

> Politely, Castiel smiled, and asked in his low voice, “Hello, how may I help you today?” 

> The woman practically beamed at him. She held a small purse in one hand and fidgeted with it nervously, leaning closer to Castiel, “I heard of this place from a friend of mine, and I was wondering how it was like. Now that I'm here, I'm not really sure what to look for.” She admitted shyly, her face flushing with the confession. 

> Castiel chuckled, and smiled at her fondly. “It's fine. Do you know what genres you are interested in? Fiction, non-fiction, prose, classics?” 

> The young woman looked at him wide eyed, taking one hand to push her hair out of her face, and shaking her head slowly. “No, but I know that my-” She smiled widely as she thought of the word, “My fiance received a gift from this bookstore. He really loved the books he got. And well, I was wondering if I could get him the next volume perhaps?” She said it in a questioning tone, pursing her lips together. 

> Castiel nodded. “Of course. Do you remember the name of the book?” He asked seriously, folding his hands together across the counter top. 

> She opened her purse hurriedly, and took out a crumpled slip of paper from her bag, frowning at the state of it, but read the name of the book aloud. “The Golden Bough. Yeah he really liked it. Had some weird mystical stuff in it or something. I haven't gotten around to reading it. I've been, well, busy lately.” She said, her eyes wandering away from Castiel. He got the hint, wedding preparations. 

> Castiel smiled, stepping out from behind the counter, and joining the young woman, gesturing for her to follow him. She quickly followed, her heels clicking on the wooden floors until they reached a patch of rug. “Congratulations.” He said brightly, lowering his eyes to the books at the bottom of a shelf in the back of the shop. 

> Flustered, the woman said, “About what?” She defensively crossed her fur covered arms over her chest, and pouted a bit. 

> Letting out a low rumble of laughter at her stance, Castiel said, eying the engagement ring she wore on her ring finger, “Well, for the wedding. When will it be?” 

> He watched as the woman instantly relaxed, and crouched down beside Castiel who was rummaging through the now organized books on the shelf. Dreamily, she said, “This summer. Later in the summer that is. I think it will be really great. Our parents met a few months ago and got along. His brother and my sister get along too. It's nice. I can't wait.” 

> Castiel glanced at her, seeing her warm smile and bright eyes. He smiled sweetly back, though felt a pang of jealousy as he thought about how this woman was allowed to get married to her fiance and yet- well actually he was not going to dive too far into that thought. 

> “That's nice. I'm glad for you, really.” He stated simply, reaching for the second volume of 'The Golden Bough'. “There are twelve volumes in all, though I only have this one through the sixth one in stock.” Castiel said sheepishly, handing the large book to the woman. 

> The woman's eyes lit up when she saw it, she smiled as she subconsciously hugged the book to her chest. “Yes! This is it! Thank you so much. Sam will love this.” 

> Castiel froze in place. Sam? That was the name of Dean's brother, wasn't it? The Golden Bough, he'd given his only first volume to Dean . . . to give to his brother as a gift for his birthday. Oh. That made sense. Castiel felt incredibly slow upon realizing this. 

> He felt a hand on his shoulder, and whipped his head around. The woman let out a small little yelp at the sudden movement from the man who was sitting quite still before. “Sorry! I just- Uhm, are you alright sir?” She asked tentatively. 

> Castiel nodded slowly, meeting her eyes with his own. He pushed himself onto his feet and asked a bit stupidly, “I was wondering, ma'm, if I could get your name. I think I might know your fiance's brother.” He admitted, then upon thinking about it, quickly added, “My name is Castiel Novak.” 

> The young woman looked at him with some confusion, though finally allowed a smile to grace her lips faintly as she nodded and said, “My name is Jessica Moore. Soon to be a Winchester I suppose. You know Dean?” She asked curiously. 

> He swallowed nervously, tugging at the collar of his shirt as he solemnly nodded. “Yes I do. He is . . .” What is he to you? They hadn't even established that much. However, they surely must be at least friends. Right? “We are friends. He visits the bookshop often.” He finally muttered. 

> Jessica's face lit up all over again, and Castiel decided that if he had had any doubts about her before hand, that they were all wiped away. He liked her spunk. “That's great. I mean, don't get me wrong, Dean has a lot of friends, but he usually keeps to himself. Rarely ever visits Sam and I. Only on special occasions. Hardly even that. Sam's been worried about him for awhile.” Jessica said easily, still hugging the book, another gift to this Sam man, to her chest. He decided he would have to eventually meet him. 

> Castiel wasn't aware of all that Jessica said. Yes, maybe Dean did seem a bit remote, but he was avoiding his family? He talked about his little brother Sam constantly, so it was shocking. Castiel didn't have time to ponder about it however, because Jessica's face lit up even more. “Oh! Castiel. Did I say that right?” Shortly after Castiel nodded she continued excitedly, “You should come to our wedding.” 

> “Oh, please Jessica, surely you can't be inviting a stranger to your wedding.” He said modestly. He didn't want to get in the way, or to come unwelcomed. He didn't even know if Dean and he would- well whatever they were they were _something_ -would be whatever it was they were. 

> Jessica beamed at him, all smiles and sunshine, “Of course I will. Please, you seem like a very kind man, and if you make Dean happy, I know for a fact you will make our wedding all that much better!” She said with a laugh. 

> Slowly, Castiel nodded. “Alright then. We should get that bought for you.” He said awkwardly, glancing at the book the woman still held. 

> She agreed enthusiastically, and smiled warmly at him as he wrote down the book's name and handed it back to her over the counter. “Have a good day ma'm.” He stated humbly. 

> “Oh please, call me Jess.” Jessica insisted, leaning across the counter to muss up Castiel's hair, then looking at him strangely when he stood rigid at the sudden touch. “Hm.” She pondered. She smiled brightly moments after, and said, “You have a good day too Castiel.” 

> Before she walked out, Castiel called out, “Call me Cas!” She raised her eyebrows and flashed a grin at Castiel's own foolish grin, before she left the shop. The sound of bells following her after she left. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like Jazz! As well as the other readers that have been giving me views & kudos on this work! I really appreciate it so much!


	10. Confidence & Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas says sweet things. Dean shuts him up. Love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am literally just going with it by this point. I have no idea what I am planning, just kinda hauling my ass behind. Have fun reading!

**May 28th, 1922**

> Dean wiped his brow, clearing the glistening sweat from his eyes as he walked out of the garage, calling out to Mr. Singer, “I got everything done today boss! I gotta go though.” 

> The gruff older man grumbled from underneath the car he was repairing. He slid out from under the car, and looked up at Dean with furrowed eyebrows along with a grimace that suited the hard expression of his boss well. “'Already told ya' son, call me Bobby.” He groused at the younger man. 

> Dean rolled his eyes up to the sky overhead, peering at Bobby who still sat in the garage. He raised his eyebrows, quietly questioning and pleasing the old man. 

> With a sigh, Bobby nodded, “Alright Dean, go and have some fun. I know boys your age are usually doin' that, and that you need it. Just come to work sober alright?” 

> A sheepish grin plastered on his face, Dean nodded enthusiastically, so giddy he was nearly _skipping_ his way into the changing rooms of the garage, while hollering out behind him, “Thanks Bobby!” 

> Quickly, Dean undressed, out of the dirty, oil-stained cheap clothing that Bobby had provided him with for the job, and into more formal, though still casual attire. He changed quickly, then ran out of the garage, calling out one more goodbye to his boss, before he landed in his natural seat in his Baby, and was revving up the engine. 

> The drive was kind to him, letting his mind wander in all the right directions, as he turned on the smoothed out dirt roads. He stayed in the tire tracks that he had made before, and followed in them until he got to the cobbled building, battered sign hanging loosely and swaying slightly in the light breeze. Blue chipped paint reading clearly “Novak's Bookshop”. 

> Dean was surprised to find a few cars parked outside the shop already. Nearly always, the store was empty, maybe with a handful of wandering people the store. 

> Dean peered into the shop, opening the door slowly in case anyone was standing in front of it. The now familiar sound of bells twinkled, as the comforting smell of books made it's way to Dean's nostrils. He opened the door wider, convinced he wouldn't hit anyone, and stepped inside the shop, his worn out work boots that he never took off, on top of the rug. 

> He saw that Castiel was flushed, fanning himself with a piece of paper he had folded into a fan. Lazily, the man was writing down the titles of books that the people would buy from him, and wished them a good night. 

> Castiel remained this way until his eyes flickered up and caught Dean's, the hint of a smile faintly gracing his worn features. It was nice to make someone smile just by being you. Actually, it was real nice. Dean felt his insides bubble up with eagerness again, though he shoved it down, throwing the thoughts that attacked him left and right, thoughts that worried him more than anything. 

> He started to walk up to the counter, hopping over it carefully as to not throw books off it, and joined Castiel on the other side. An elderly man looked startled at the sudden appearance of Dean, but Dean flashed his charming grin, and won a calm smile from it. 

> Two lines were formed, as Castiel wrote down the titles in his great book and took the cash from customers for it, while Dean wrote in a notepad he found lying around, pocketing the money for now until the busy rush of people died down. He wasn't going to steal it, though with business this good it was hard not to think about it. 

> Everything quieted down at about six. There weren't really that many people, Castiel told him yesterday had been worse, though a steady stream of them with lots of books made their way in that evening. 

> “Dean.” Castiel said, attempting to catch the man's attention, “Are you alright? You seem a bit out of it.” 

> Dean blinked once, then twice, smiling timidly, his green eyes flashing from a distracted other-worldly gaze, to that of total focus and a piercing ogling. He watched as Castiel shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny. “I'm fine, just out of it I guess.” He said, smiling like an idiot all over again. 

> Shyly, Castiel smiled at him. Before they could get lost in anymore starring with imaginary eye sex however, a young man came up to the counter, holding two books in his hands. Castiel nodded with an invisible sigh, that Dean was sure only he noticed, before turning to the customer and doing the usual thing he normally did with the book and the money. 

> The moment was lost in a cool breeze. When the boy had left, leaving the shop cleared out, Castiel turned to Dean and stated to him simply, “I met someone who knew you yesterday.” 

> His face was so blank that Dean wondered what he had done. He squirmed a bit, before he asked the million dollar question, “Who?” 

> “Jessica? Your brother's-Sam's- fiance?” He said, letting a shit-eating grin cross his face. 

> “Jess was here?” Dean asked, trying to imagine Jess and Cas talking to each other. He could see it he supposed. A gay Jess sprouting with excitement and a polite Cas nodding politely, but really lost in the conversation. Dean returned the smile, glad to have imagined that scene, and said, “That's great! What happened?” 

> Castiel let the hands he held at his sides clench and unclench, until he nervously tugged at the hem of his shirt. A habit that Dean was starting to recognize. “Well, she said she wanted to get a book for her fiance, and she got the second volume of 'The Golden Bough'. I should have figured it out by then, but I didn't piece it all together until she said your brother's name.” He said, looking at the ground in embarrassment. 

> Dean let out a warm laugh, and patted Castiel on the shoulder in a comforting gesture, “It's fine Cas. I probably wouldn't have gotten that far.” He admitted. 

> Castiel seemed to tense at the words, squaring his shoulders and narrowing his eyes at Dean. He set his lips into a frown, and asked, “Dean, why do you do that?” 

> Blinking in confusion, Dean asked him just as stupidly, “What do ya' mean Cas?” 

> With a small sigh, probably annoyed by him, Castiel said, “You always belittle yourself. You told me the first day I met you that Sam was the smart one in the family, and belittled yourself by saying that you were just a mechanic. It's upsetting to hear that.” A frown still tugged at his lips, though he reached forward, wrapping his soft hands around Dean's own rough and calloused hands. “You shouldn't do that. You are,” Castiel paused, and Dean thought bitterly to himself that it was ironic Castiel wouldn't know what to say about him, wondering if he was realizing what a pathetic- “You are just so perfect.” 

> That was different. It stopped Dean's train of thought, and he looked at Castiel seriously. Castiel was dead serious about this, his eyes warm and yet stone cold, his lips set in a straight line, though the corners of his lips tilted up slightly. His hands squeezed Dean's encouragingly. 

> Wow. Dean leaned in for a kiss, seeing that Castiel wanted to say a lot more to support that little statement of his. Dean wasn't having any of that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anndd, just by the way, thank you for the chance on this you guys! I am super flattered, I even got a comment. And yes, that's lame and not much compared to a lot of great works out there, but dude for me that is just plain awesome. ^^
> 
> PS: Good chapter. Sorry for the abrupt ending, but stalling and i need sleep. NIGHT LOVES.


	11. Could've Been Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas closes up the store, Dean meets with Cas outside the store. They do a little PDA while they think nobody is around, but a kid sees them and figures it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm. I wrote this up fast.

**May 31, 1922**

> The last day of May was pleasantly peaceful. The air barely stirred except for the late spring breeze. Only a handful of customers filtered in through the morning to the afternoon. Castiel took orderly care of the shop as well as the people that wandered in with purpose or aimlessly. He swept the wooden floors, around the randomly laid out rugs, placed books in the shelves, though after an hour of no customers coming in, Castiel decided to close the shop early that evening. It was hours before dusk would greedily devour the day and sweep through the town, but Castiel concluded that he needed a break for the night. 

> Lightly, he closed the sturdy wooden door of the shop behind him, locking it with a click. Castiel heard the familiar roar of an engine coming down the street from a distance. He smiled faintly, glad to be able to recognize the distinct sound of the car, even from all the way over there. 

> Dean parked across the street, already hopping out of the car, so eager to get to the bookshop that he nearly ran into Castiel outside of it. He stopped only about an inch away from the man, blinking, until a grin washed over his face. “Hey there,” Dean said awkwardly, slightly embarrassed by how excited he had been to get there. 

> Castiel took it with ease, smiling faintly at Dean, and with a double check to see if anyone was around- the streets were desserted, most people in their homes trying to cool off or at a river nearby with their children- before he leaned in for a quick peck on Dean's lips. Despite the heat of that still lingered from the afternoon, Castiel embraced even the slightest hot touch from the man, and he practically nuzzled his nose against the rough stubble of the other man's jaw. 

> He could feel Dean smile against his cheek. He also felt his arms encircle around his middle, and hold him their, cradling him gently with such unbelievable tenderness that Castiel wanted to cling at Dean and snuggle him in a giant bear hug. 

> The feeling was quickly disintegrated however, when Dean let out an awkward cough, and drew his arms away from Castiel's waist. Castiel let out a whiny noise, before peering away from the safe spot tucked away between Dean's shoulder and neck. He saw his worst nightmare really. A child was standing just a few feet away, a young boy, with a ratty, tattered ball clutched in his left hand, as he looked at the two men with wide astonished eyes. He didn't seem disgusted at least, though he did look wildly curious. 

> “Why ya'll huggin' each other for?” He asked with a light of innocence that Castiel enveloped. Maybe the kid wouldn't think too much of it. He prayed he wouldn't tell his parents. Most people down here, down south, hated anything different than their set beliefs. Castiel knew that it was like that most places, however he also knew it was worse here. 

> Uneasily, Dean trailed his hands away from Castiel, and backed away from him. A pang of icy hurt shot through Castiel. He knew that the action was necessary, but it was still painful. He wished to grasp to Dean like an anchor, to seize his hand and stand proudly with him. 

> With a charming smile, Dean said, “My friend here just needed a hug.” Dean glanced at Castiel, and must have seen a desperate emotion traced on his face that Castiel was not aware he was showing, because Dean suddenly let go of the fake act, and snatched his hand in his firmly. Castiel knew he should probably pull away, save Dean before he made a big deal and a big stand, making things horrible for them both, but he couldn't bear to tear his hand away from Dean's comforting one. 

> “More than friend actually.” Dean said with a confidence that rang in his voice, though his eyes were wild and concerned, as if he was wondering what had come over him. 

> Oh God, Castiel should shove him away now to save both their asses. He couldn't bring himself to still though. 

> The boy looked at them curiously, canting his head to the side curiously, mimicking a bird. Castiel could see Dean glance at him and knew he was thinking of Castiel and how he did the same motion when he was pondering over something. The boy asked, “Are you's two bent then?” 

> Castiel stiffened at the slang, automatically letting his eyes wander to the ground, boring his eyes into the dirt road rather than the child. He heard Dean say without a single quiver in his voice, “I guess that's one way of putting it. We're queer, I suppose. Just-” Castiel could hear him pause, carefully choosing his words, “Guess we just uhm, love each other, and that's what should count.” 

> That kid looked at them with a funny expression. He was only about eight to ten years old, old enough to have a negative perspective on them, but young enough to still be learning new things and to accept it. Castiel felt relief poured over him when the boy smiled giddily and nod, “I reckon so. It's weird though. But ya'll love each other.” 

> Castiel finally spoke up, softly in his rough voice, asking pleadingly, “You think you cannot tell your folks about this?” He met the kid's eyes, and wiggled his fingers nervously in Dean's sweaty grasp. 

> “Yeah okay. Daddy don't like fa-queers. 'Says they ain't good. Mommy doesn't mind but still think they nasty. You two don't look dirty. And you seem nice too.” 

> Castiel secretly thanked the Lord for the innocence that children were keen on, and he smiled faintly at the boy, nodding in acknowledgment. “Thank you.” He glanced at Dean's car, adding, “We should be going now. You go play.” 

> The blessed child nodded eagerly, and hollered, “Bye sirs! Keep at it!” Then ran off on his stumpy legs down the street. Castiel climbed up into the passenger seat of the old car in relief, practically collapsing into it before catching himself and merely slumping into the leather of the seats. Dean slid in next to him. 

> “Could've been worse.” Dean assured him, trailing his wonderfully roughened up hand over Castiel's knuckle, before he started up the car. Dust kicked up behind them as they drove down the street and down to Dean's house. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe this is a turning point. I mean I could have that kid point them out and then ruin them. But I like that kid and I trust him . . .I dunno. I enjoyed writing this though. Give me ideas on here or on my Tumblr if you have any! I mean I keep going, but where to? (PS: freakin' love 20's slang. "Bent" means homosexual by the way. And yes that kid nearly called them faggots. Bad yes, but time period!)


	12. Dimly Lit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's house. After some worrying will we finally see some hotness?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot! Sorry for that little break. Friday I donated blood and was out of it for the rest of the day, with no hope of uploading a chapter. Days before I had tests and was studying. Yesterday just nothing would come to me. I finally decided on some small talk and sexy times. ;)

**Later That Night**

> Dean shuffled into the house, ducking his head a little as he entered the small shabby house. Castiel let his eyes roam over the outside of the house. Blue chipped paint on splintered wooden boards, the same wood that creaked and shifted underneath the men's feet. It was the first time Castiel had been to Dean's home. There was a sad lonely feeling about it. The house was isolated away from the town, down a long spiraling dirt road and tucked away at the frayed edges of the town. The house was a two story building, though it seemed to be caving in on itself due to the poor quality. It didn't seem like Dean had been keeping up with its condition. 

> Castiel watched Dean as he wrung his hands together, nervousness clearly on edge. Castiel quietly wondered how long it had been since Dean had someone over. He thought back to what Jessica had said about Dean being an outcast to the town and even his own family. Castiel offered Dean an encouraging smile as he glanced back at him, noticing the physical change in the man's posture and tense shoulders. 

> Dean unlocked the door with a rusty rattle. He had to jiggle the knob a few times before the door finally opened, old hinges creaking with the weight of the solid door. Castiel followed Dean into the old house, darkness sweeping over him along with the musty air that could suffocate him. The sour smell of alcohol eagerly greeted him, vile smells filling his nostrils. Castiel couldn't help himself from scrunching his nose in disgust at the acid smells. He was instantly relieved that it was too dark for Dean to see him. 

> A dim light slowly flickered on. An end table sat by a small floral patterned couch, which sat in front of a coffee table. On the end table was a small and simple lamp that Dean had turned on. Throughout the house, various lamps sat on end tables or counters, some were floor lamps and were tucked into small corners of the house. Castiel slowly took in his surroundings with the faint light from the lamp. He caught Dean's eyes. They were worried and he seemed embarrassed by it all. Castiel watched as Dean quickly shuffled to the next room to switch on the lamps, until the house was murkily lit with the orange glows of light from the lamps. 

> When Dean had stopped pacing around the groaning boards of the house, Castiel hesitantly walked up to him, and folded on of his hands around Dean's own hand. Hoarsely, he asked the man, “Are you alright?” 

> Dean's green eyes flicked over to Castiel, as if he had just realized Castiel had moved up along his side. He nodded for a moment, before shaking his head. Castiel patiently watched as Dean took his free hand and ran it through his hair, then moving it down his face with a sigh. “Just- That was a close call ya' know? That kid could tell his parents now Cas. We could get into a whole lot of trouble. Witch hanging kind of trouble.” Dean said, making a face at the word witch. 

> Castiel nodded in understanding, because he did understand. He was just as frightened as Dean. He frowned slightly upon pondering what they could do, until Dean gave him a face that told him to spit it out. He did. “Would you like to. . .” He swallowed nervously, lowering his eyes from Dean, “Would you like to call this whole thing off? So we don't arouse any suspicion?” 

> Dean's eyes widened, as if the thought hadn't even crossed his mind once. Feverently he shook his head, stammering a, “Oh no- Cas I don't wanna do that. You're one of the best things that's happened to me in a long time-” Dean seemed to catch himself, and winced, face flushing red. Hurriedly he added, “I mean, unless you don't wanna be around me anymore. I mean I get that too.” Dean said sheepishly, tugging at the edge of his coat nervously. 

> Castiel sacrificed a tender smile to Dean, his eyes soft and meeting back with Dean's. Quietly he said, “No. You have a family here though Dean. What would they say about this? They could disown you. I just don't want to be the cause for something that terrible.” He shuddered at the thought, thinking back on how happy and content Dean seemed to be when talking about his brother and his parents, thinking about how happy Jess was. He never wanted to destroy the love in that family. 

> A silent moment of understanding passed between the two of them. Finally Dean let out a sigh, shaking his head. He pressed his fingers against his temple, but let his hand squeeze Castiel's in reassurance. Castiel let a small smile slip. “What about you?” Dean asked abruptly. Castiel looked at him with confusion, canting his head to the side like a bird. “I mean your family?” 

> Castiel hadn't thought about his family in a long time. Bringing back the haunted topic of it stilled him for a moment before he mentally shook himself. A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth, “I don't need to worry about them. They don't live around here.” He was already a disappointment to them. He was a shame to the family. They wanted to give him a good wife and have him pass on the family tradition with children, though he had no interest. Luckily, his father had Michael. He wasn't the only failure either. His long-lost siblings Gabriel and Anna had ran away on their own. Though he hadn't seen them in years. 

> He didn't think anymore of it, that was for a different time. Dean nodded thoughtfully. He tugged his hand away from Castiel's, and immediately he was disappointed at the loss. Dean shrugged out of his coat however, revealing his dark green vest over his white dress shirt underneath. Castiel stared as the man shifted, his lean muscles moving underneath that thin white fabric. He reddened when Dean caught him starring, and bowed his head away in embarrassment. 

> He felt hot hands on him. Castiel felt Dean's hands slowly work off his own trench coat off his shoulders, slipping his arms out of the arm sleeves, until all he wore was his own button up shirt. Castiel looked up at Dean, whose eyes were pleading for permission. Castiel watched as Dean unconsciously licked his lower lip, his tongue flickering out to moisten the sweet flesh there. Castiel brought his own hands to Dean's chest, clumsily unbuttoning the man's vest and tugging it off his body. 

> They were both a mess before it even began, and Castiel was surprised to hear a low rumble of laughter grow from the man that was pressed against his chest. He looked at Dean quizzically, running his fingers through his wild sandy-brown hair, scratching at the man's scalp lightly. “What?” He asked with a low growl. More curious than irritated. 

> Dean's light laughter turned into a fit of laughter. He looked up at Castiel with a giant grin on his face. He caught the other man's jaw in both his hands, and let his lips collide against Castiel's. Hot. Sweet. Arousal seeped into Dean's eyes, hungry and eager. Castiel let the same feeling bubble up inside him. It was going to be a great night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it's too soon sorry, but I really feel like some smut. So that will probably be the next chapter. Will be uploaded either today or tomorrow. Thanks for reading as always~!


	13. The Chapel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean get a little heat. Until the author freaks and ruins it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In advance, I apologize.

> Broad hands swept over his shoulders, trailing down his biceps, his forearms, and around his wrists, lightly squeezing them. Fingers stumbled to intertwine clumsily through his own fingers. Smothering wet kisses were painted across his body. His peppered cheeks, plush lips, down his neck and splayed out shoulders. Sweet and hot down along his chest, his stomach. 

> Impatiently, Dean tugged off the teasing man's shirt. They were still in the front room. Dean roughly shoved Castiel down on the couch, changing the position until he was straddling the man's hips. He began worshiping Castiel's body. With light kisses, tasting the salty sweat upon his skin with his tongue that flicked out every so often. He let his hands graze the man's chest. 

> When Castiel let out a small whining groan after Dean had roughly bit into the tender skin at his neck, Dean couldn’t help but smile into his shoulder, panting as he was. He could feel the other man's chest heaving from under his own. Dean stripped himself of his own dress shirt, eager to rid of any unnecessary fabric. Dean sat up, still straddling Castiel's lap, looking the other man over, the man who still lay a panting mess under him, begging for him to gently take him and pound love into him. 

> Dean couldn't say no to that, now could he? 

> Dean leaned over again, faintly trailing his tongue on Castiel's jaw with light stubble, enjoying the rough sensation much more over a woman's smooth jaw. He bowed his head to Castiel's chest, slightly nipping his teeth on the man's nipples, earning a throaty moan from him. 

> “Dean.” Castiel whined, moving his hands into Dean's hair, roughly pulling at it. It was a bitter hurt, Dean continued to leave marks in Castiel's tender skin, absently wondering if he could leave just as good bruises with Castiel as he could with the women he'd slept with. 

> Castiel was fighting for dominance now, holding tightly onto Dean's hair, dragging his nails into his scalp and attempting to roll him over. Dean fought back, keeping Castiel pinned down and worshiping the man's body while he could. Finally, through breathy pants Castiel snapped out, “Dean!” Dean looked at Castiel, his face was red and his blue eyes wide. Immediately he felt sick to his stomach, and scampered off the man. Had he done something wrong? Goddammit, had Castiel even wanted this at all? Dean worriedly wracked his mind for something to go on, as Castiel breathlessly sat up, leaning forward, elbows propped on his knees. 

> Dean wasn't breathing, he was sitting rock-solid on the floor, his legs tucked under his body, and he felt a nasty knot digging away into his stomach. He was sure that if Castiel didn't say something he was going to puke. Or maybe if he _did_ say anything he was going to anyways. Depended on what it was Castiel wanted to say. Dean swallowed and prayed he hadn't just made the biggest mistake of his life. 

> Castiel finally lifted his eyes from the ground, looking up at Dean with his hurt looking eyes. He watched as the man swallowed nervously, wrapping his hands around his now bare wrists. Being reminded of how naked he was made Dean feel all the more sick and exposed, and he unconsciously pulled away from Castiel's eyes, caving his bare body inward. He'd screwed this all up so badly goddammit. 

> “Dean, stop thinking this was your fault.” Castiel finally spoke, silently shaking his head. “I just wanted to . . .” He trailed off quietly, his voice cracking. Oh God, Dean did not want to hear Castiel break down like this. Ever. 

> Castiel wiped his hands on his pants, frantically trying to string the right words together without breaking down. He looked up at the dimly lit ceiling of the aged house, and said carefully, “I'm just frustrated because I feel like you give too much. I want to reward you for all that giving. I want to worship you. I don't feel like I deserve to be-” He swallowed before his voice cracked, “I don't feel like I deserve to be worshiped.” He let out a long breath. 

> Dean was suddenly happy that Castiel had decided to stare down (up?) the ceiling rather than him. He took a moment to process what Castiel said, and scoffed. “Cas, I don't need nobody worshiping me. I'm not-” Dean stammered a little, his face flushing with realization, that yes he had indeed been kind of praising Castiel's body with his tongue. He sighed, rubbing the back of his palm on his eyes, and offered quietly, “Would you like to uhm- well ya know. But I don't think I can go like, too far. I don't even know what to do. Or how. I sincerely doubt you've got a book on that.” 

> Castiel finally looked back at Dean, blue eyes washing with calmness, instantly Dean was relieved. He gave Dean a skeptical look, eyebrows raised and lips quirked, “Actually. . .” He drawled out, making Dean pout at him, crossing his arms over his bare chest. 

> “Jesus, what do you read?” He asked with a frown. 

> “I'm not Jesus, I'm Castiel.” Castiel responded with some sass, his face cracking in two with the grin that was spreading across it. 

> Dean made a grab for a pillow, stuffing his face into it. He let out a worthy groan into it, murmuring, “Shut up Cas!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I will make a smut chapter, I just feel like they needa actually bond a little bit before they do. And next time you will get to see some Cas adoring Dean smut. I swear on my life (okay not really) that I will make it happen. Plus I just could not resist. 
> 
> ALSO. Thank you to some of you people who are bookmarking, and to those who are giving it kudos and just viewing it. 200 views. Probably just me refreshing the page, but still that is a lot of refreshing for one person. WOOT! Thanks you guys! Maybe I'll post another chapter today? . . .Probably not though I have a lot of homework and decided to write this instead of doing it. Shit, I have a Spanish test too. . .;;


	14. Fallen Far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to shift. Two men come into the bookstore. Is Castiel screwed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes yes I know I am an asshole. Short chapter. I had no idea where I was going with this when I started. But then ideas started coming to me very suddenly. Hope you like!

**June 5th, 1922**

> Is started slowly. However, once it began it spread fast like a wild fire. A few days after Castiel had rejected Dean's advances (since he had wanted to give to the man himself than to be given), he started to notice it. The way people looked at him from the corners of their eyes, as it they were walking on eggshells around him, afraid that he would do something viscous. Bring them trouble. It happened everywhere. His customers, the people he would inevitably pass in the shopping market or on the streets. Oh, it started slow all right, but the pacing of how fast the people of the town's attitudes increased was incredible. The clear warning that trouble was ahead. Approaching quickly. Castiel took it all with a grain of salt. He didn't bat an eye at it. 

> It really started Monday morning. When the shifty eyes and buried thoughts were first vocalized. Just as every other weekday morning, Castiel was opening up the shop, airing it out and organizing books. He was just moving behind the counter, to get his handy little duster for the tops of the bookshelves and books, when a man entered the shop. Castiel didn't bother looking up. He knew it couldn't be Dean, since Dean had this certain aura and smell around him. That, yes, Castiel had memorized. The smell of his leather seats in his car, oil, rust, aftershave, and burly soap. 

> After digging under the counter, with the feather duster in hand, Castiel finally acknowledged the man. He was surprised to find two men. Both did not look like the book buying type, and he had only seen either in bars or in church. Both men wore aggressive expressions, arms crossed over their chests defensively, as if Castiel's very presence offended them. . . 

> “May I help you?” He asked calmly, sweeping out from behind the counter, pass the men and to a bookshelf, reaching up and dusting the top shelf. He heard loud steps on the wooden floorboards. The boards protested underneath the weight of the two men, who Castiel could see still walked side by side. He was suddenly aware that they were slowly moving apart, getting on either of his sides. Trapping him against the bookcase. 

> With an irritated sigh, Castiel turned to the men, facing them both levelly. He set the small duster on top of the books that were neatly stacked on the shelves in rows. Castiel gave both men a pointed look, and with a shrug of his shoulders, he asked, “What is it?” 

> One man was middle aged, balding with few silver hairs around his head. He had a pig like face, and beady eyes. Castiel knew him from church, he was a suck up to the pastor. Ah, that's right. Zachariah. He was shifty and gave Castiel the creeps. The other man was surprisingly a Negro. His head was completely bald, shining in the dim lights of the bookstore. Both men seemed to be looking down at Castiel, chins held high, and both increasingly smug. Compared to his clothing, even the Negro was dressed better than he was. Both wore church-going clothing, elegant and expensive tuxedos. 

> They were both squarely on both sides of Castiel, and they leered in, making Castiel lean back against the bookshelf. He tried to remember the Negro’s name, and remembered. Uriel. He often saw him with Zachariah, who was a rich and powerful man. He probably worked for him. 

> Zachariah clucked his tongue, sadly shaking his head, “Oh Castiel.” He spoke softly, though his eyes were shining with mockery, “How far you have fallen. I assume the rumors are true. That you have been seeing a _man_? Why, we saw you two just yesterday.” The man made a disgusted face, looking at Castiel with wide angry eyes. The man hissed out, “Poor, poor Castiel.” 

> There was nowhere to run. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: Since ideas have started to come, I will post the next chapter! I only have English and Spanish homework tonight. Plus I have to wait to watch SPN later because I don't have it on TV, and livestream is evil. ALSO super sorry for using the word Negro. Oh god you do not know how much I cringe inside myself when I use it. Sorry if it is offensive- just the time period.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler: He'd not screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still hate using the word.

> Castiel stood heaving in the middle of the bookstore. Sweating and sucking in large breaths of air. He looked around himself with wide, weary eyes. A few bookshelves had fallen over, books lay scattered across the floor, some open and ruining the spine, others closed and thrown across the room. 

> The only thing Castiel could do, when completely helpless and surrounded by two men who were about to beat the crap out of him, was to make it as hard as he could for them to beat him up. He fought back along the way. As soon as Uriel had reached out for him, he brought his knee up to the Negro's stomach. In a flash, the man was doubling over in surprise, while Zachariah was cursing him out under his breath. 

> “What kind of sin has that man tainted you with?” He asked in an angry growl, glaring Castiel down in furious rage. 

> Zachariah grabbed Castiel, and Castiel had dodged it, ducking and taking a step back into the bookcase. He had forgotten about Uriel, and was surprised when the man quickly recovered and roughly dug his hands in Castiel's shoulders, pulling him to the right. Zachariah was in his face now, and he might as well had spat in it in his anger. 

> Both arms pinned behind him, Castiel escaped with only a few punches to his guts before he swooped his head, tangling his feet in the Negro's until he fell backwards. However since he was still holding onto Castiel, he brought them both down and falling. 

> Quickly, in the moment that Uriel had hit his head and loosened his grip, Castiel spun out of the man's grasp, jumping to his feet. Zachariah was already at full charge, running towards Castiel and throwing punches here and there. Cursing his name under the Lord. 

> Castiel didn't quite catch all the insults that were flung at him, nor did he successfully avoid all the swipes at his face, chest or stomach. Though he managed for the most part to fight back, leering in multiple punches of his own. As far as he was concerned, these two men had entered _his_ bookstore, and had no right to be here. 

> Castiel continued at the fight until he realized that he had again forgotten about Uriel. Quickly he turned his head, checking on the man, who was now dizzily beginning to sit up. Castiel turned back to Zachariah, hurriedly thinking up a plan. He grabbed the older man by the arms, twisting them painfully behind his back, so that the man's back was to Castiel's chest. When Uriel stood up, Zachariah was squirming in Castiel's solid hold. 

> “Now,” Castiel growled out furiously, glaring at Uriel and making Zachariah suffer in as much pain as he could endure without breaking his arms, “I want you two to get the hell out of my shop, and to never come back. Whom I speak with and whom I love is of my own personal life, and I wish to never see you interfere with that right ever again.” He waited until both men glanced at each other, and Zachariah nodded stiffly. 

> Zachariah didn't say a word until Castiel released him. He growled and grumbled, but waved Uriel over, and left. Though not before giving Castiel a dirty look over his shoulder. Castiel glared just as hard back to them until they left the shop. 

> So yeah, he now stood heaving in the middle of the shop, the entire thing a wreck. Red in the face, with deep angry breaths, he began to slowly pull up the bookcases, hauling books with him, stacking them neatly besides the shelves. 

> He sighed. Upset. Of course this was going to take forever to clean up. However, what was bothering him even more was that his relationship with Dean had gotten spread out in the first place. He bitterly thought about how frightened Dean had been at the prospect. He wondered how it had happened. Castiel hoped it wasn't that kid, but it wouldn't be a surprise if it was him. After all, he could have told one person, and in a small town like this, it was likely to be spread quickly in the course of a week. 

> He had to tell Dean. He had to warn him. Castiel hoped with all his heart that his family would never learn about it. For his own sake and Dean's. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWO CHAPTERS IN ONE DAY. Okay both are pretty short. HEY BUT STILL. Hope you people like them. Action. Woot. . . sorry I am horrid at action scenes but hey I tried. :)


	16. Breathless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas worries Dean. Dean demands an explanation. Drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. I almost did not write today. :) Hope you like it.

**That Evening**

> Dean was surprised to find Castiel panting in the doorway of the garage, his brows furrowed and his breaths coming in short pants. He was a sweating mess, looking more raggedy and untamed that usual. Dean saw his wild hair, immediately wondering if he had actually _run_ all the way there. He did a double take on the man, deciding that he most likely had. 

> Peering from underneath the car, Bobby gives Castiel a crazed look, and glances over at Dean. Dean shakes his head at the older man, pursing his lips together, and says, “Uhm, he's a friend. Sir, uhm, do you mind if I just . . .?” 

> The gruff man laughs heartily, returning his attention to the old car he's under, and says, “Go ahead son. Take the rest of the day off.” 

> Dean looks at his boss suspiciously, though he sighs, jumping away from his work, and rushing to gather his stuff, holding his finger up to keep Castiel waiting. Once he had rushed back, Dean gave Bobby a quick wave before he grabbed Castiel by the sleeve, and dragged him out of the garage. 

> “What the hell Cas?” He hissed, adding quickly, worry drawing over his features, “Are you alright? You ran all the way over here.” Dean led Castiel to his car, helping the man up into the passenger's seat, and ignoring any protests the man might have. Castiel looked downright worn. 

> After a few moments of recollecting himself, Castiel said meekly, “I was attacked. I think the entire town know Dean. I just hope none of your family does . . . that would be quite disastrous.” Castiel spoke in a hurried pace, wringing his hands together and looking pointedly at his lap. Not meeting Dean's eyes. 

> “What?” Dean asked in a frightened voice. Upon closer inspection, he saw that Castiel did look like he had been in a fight. He was bruised on his face, his neck and collarbone, and no doubt in places Dean couldn't see right now. He slipped his hand on Castiel's shoulder, frowning. He'd forgotten to start driving, as his attention was focused mainly on Castiel now. “What happened Cas? Slower now.” He soothed the man, rubbing small circles absently into the man's shoulders. 

> Castiel took a deep breath, and explained to Dean what had happened to him. He spoke carefully and slowly, though his voice was tight and his emotions withdrawn. Castiel finally looked up at Dean at the end, his eyes impossibly wide and his bottom lip quivering. Dean never, ever wanted to see that again. “What if your family finds out?” He asked in such a soft whisper that Dean had to lean in to hear him clearly. “What will happen to us? To you? I can't do this if you are hurt Dean.” 

> That sparked something in Dean. The small spark ignited in full-blown rage and fury. He growled out lowly, dangerously, glaring at Castiel, “What the hell Cas? You just got beat up, and you're worried about _me_? You gotta know that ain't right man. You should be worried about _you_. I mean, I wasn't attacked goddammit.” He spoke just as quietly as Castiel had, though his voice was forced to be kept in the low tone, his eyes were daggers sent in Castiel's way. 

> Castiel frowned in thought, glancing away from Dean for a moment, before he looked back with this complex emotion that Dean could barely read. He looked back at Dean with a curious expression, canting his head in a way that made Dean want to forgive the guy for his stupidity. “I didn't think about it like that. . .” He admitted softly, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. “I apologize.” 

> Dean sighed, shaking his head in defeat. He turned his body away from Castiel and started up his Baby, now focusing on the road. He asked the man, “Would you want to go back to your house or bookstore?” 

> He wasn't looking, but he could feel Castiel bristle next to him. “The store is a mess, and a bitter reminder of what happened this afternoon.” He said with a growl. “And my home is not very pleasant nor comforting. I have nothing there I value too much.” Dean could feel the gears working in Castiel's mind, as he hit the dusty road. 

> “Awh, come on.” Dean groaned. “You don't have to think so damn hard. You can come over to my house if you want. I mean, yeah. Not gonna arouse any suspicion at all I'm sure.” Dean joked, though there was a slightly serious undertone to the joke. 

> When he glanced at Castiel, he saw that his dark hair was flowing crazily in the wind. The evening sky was still young, causing a warm glow of orange and pink to light the man's features sweetly in its embrace. The man was looking out his window, though his head was turned forward, out the front window. He had a thought gnawing away at him, and Dean reached over once again, smoothing his hand lightly over Castiel's. He quickly looked away, keeping his eyes on the road, squinting through the bright sun that slowly lowered itself. 

> “Just,” Dean spoke after awhile, “Promise you won't do something stupid.” 

> He heard a low chuckle from Castiel, and through the corner of his eye, he saw that the man's blue eyes were crinkling at the corners, his chapped pink lips spread mischievously, “I can't promise you that.” He spoke lowly, “You don't even know what I did to those guys today. You don't even know who they are.” 

> Dean dared a look at Castiel, his mouth gaped open. “No way. You already did something stupid?” He asked incredulously. He blinked once, then twice, before he returned his eyes to the safety of the road, shaking his lightly in disbelief. “Spill it.” He finally begged. 

> “Zachariah. That devoted man at church. He has a Negro working for him, Uriel. I kind of, beat down Uriel then hauled Zachariah and threatened to hurt them unless they left my shop.” Castiel admitted sheepishly. 

> For a moment Dean sat there gaping, making a smooth turn down the road to his house, moving the sun behind them. He blinked in surprise when he was no longer blinded, and he shook his head again. After awhile he asked, “Do you think you looked keen?” He asked with a goofy grin. 

> Castiel rolled his eyes, looking back out the window and said stiffly and awkwardly, “I believe the scene looked nifty.” 

> Dean laughed, nearly forgetting to stop in front of his house, almost driving right into it. Through the breathless laughter, he finally managed to say, “Never do that again Cas. That was freakin' weird.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so hard for me to keep a serious tone in this because I just keep thinking of new cute stuff in the worst moments. But, Jazz (anon) said they wanted this to be kept light, although they wanted it to be dark too? It's a hard mixture man, but I love it.


	17. Sap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some talk about the entire situation that Dean and Castiel are in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I suck so much. I have not updated in almost an entire month. I know. I am so sorry. School, tests, and family have been driving me crazy. I really missed this story but it was so hard to think straight on what I wanted to do with it. Still is. I have no idea what I will do but I feel confident that some ideas are starting to poke through. Yikes, and all that slang. It's freaking fun okay? I might or might not overuse.;; Sorry. HAVE FUN READING.

**June 10th,1922**

> “What's eating you? You be on the level with me.” Dean asked with a full mouth, talking between stuffing his face with his sandwich. He leaned back in his chair in the dining room as Castiel seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. Again. He was like that a lot recently. 

> Castiel shrugged, in no way convincing Dean that there wasn't anything wrong with him. Castiel sensed this, confessing quietly to the other, “Honestly? Tomorrow is the day of worship, and I cannot go to church.” 

> Dean screwed up his face at the explanation. He was about to ask why not, but realized that if he said that it would seem like nobody was home. He sighed instead, swallowing the last of the sandwich down, “Come on Cas, you can still go right? It's not as if you're on the lam. Any person can go to church if they want to go. Though, I didn't know you were a church-going type of person.” 

> Castiel nodded slowly, turning his eyes up to Dean now as he sloppily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He smiled a little, and admitted, “I'm not sure if I could be anymore anyways. Things are much more complicated since I have met you.” 

> A frown wiped out all other emotions on Dean's face, quickly he said, “Gee, I'm sorry Cas. I mean-” 

> “Dean pipe down. I didn't mean it like that. I wasn't finished either. Things have gotten complicated for the better. I enjoy being in your company, I assure you, once more, that I do not regret it at all.” Castiel interrupted before Dean could go on. For such a bimbo, Dean was pretty balled up about himself. 

> “Sorry. I know. I just. . .” Dean shrugged uselessly, feeling more stupid and pathetic than before. Castiel read that there was something that he wasn't telling him there, but he only frowned and tried not to think about what it was. 

> “Of course. It's fine Dean. As I was saying however, I cannot go to church. You and I both know that I cannot go. Though I do wish to clean up my shop.” 

> Dean seemed to cringe at the thought of the torn up bookshop, but he nodded and said, “I'll help you out with that baby.” 

> Castiel looked at Dean strangely, canting his head to the side as he monotonously said, “Dean, I hope dearly that you do not believe me to be an infant. I am a grown man-” 

> “Aw, come on Cas. I know that. It's an expression. It's like calling you sweetheart. You're such a bird sometimes, I swear.” 

> Castiel looked at Dean strangely, deciding that Dean must know he was also not a creature whom could fly. Rather he shrugged, brushing it off, earning a warm laugh from Dean. 

> “Anyways Cas, enough with the baloney. We should talk about what we are going to do with all of this,” Dean gestured around them vaguely, “I mean, it's not going to be easy. I don't even know what we're going to do. I don't want to beat it, and I ain't got no beef with you, but you know, what if . . .” He trailed off, sitting up in his chair now. Dean let his green eyes fall from Castiel's eyes, and trailed the table with them instead as he continued, “What if it gets worse? What if you're attacked again, by some big six? I mean, if my family finds out, the worst they'd do is disown me. But what if something bad happens to you?” 

> Castiel listened intently as Dean squeezed out his worries to him. “Dean.” He said softly in that low, gravel-like voice of his, “It will all be fine. We should not worry about such things right now. They are merely 'what if's'. We must worry about things going on now.” Dean gave him a disbelieving look, which Castiel smiled at, “Such as, my bookshop. I have regular customers and I have been staying here all week and avoiding it. However, you are right, I did nothing wrong, so I must not keep cowering away.” 

> Castiel felt relief drain over him as Dean grinned, “Yeah Cas. We'll do that. First thing's first. Wanna head out to sort it all out in a few then?” 

> Castiel nodded, with a roll of his eyes. “Of course Dean.” 

> “You're such a sap.” Before Castiel could ask what he meant, Dean said, “No not from a tree. I swear Cas, you slay me.” 

> “Dean, I do not wish to kill you.” 

> “Gee, dry up Cas.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry X100 again


End file.
